Cake Batter and Aunt Roe

Do you want Chocolate or Vanilla? Her voice filled the room almost as potently as the sweet smell of the cake cooling on the rack. I desperately wanted to try vanilla but every time the question came I couldn’t resist responding “chocolate”. I loved the way she made the icing gently unwrapping each piece of Bakers chocolate and placing the perfectly shaped squares in the pot. “Throw everything away as you go” she reminded me gently as she handed me the wax paper that gently nestled each piece “A clean kitchen makes the difference” She glided the step stool out from the side of the refrigerator ‘Watch closely” she would always say. I watched as her dainty hands with fingernails shaped like almonds painted a dark mauve color made the icing from scratch.

She narrated everything she was doing as only a good teacher would, “add the sugar” she reminded gently ”but don’t add too much or the icing will be too sweet.” I stared into the pot with a little girls curiosity as the chocolate squares and sugar melted into a perfectly smooth icing. “Sing with me” she would  say and though I knew immediately which song she would sing I looked forward to it as though it was the first time. She would begin ‘Each night before I go to bed my baby”……my small voice joining in as she smiled and said “Louder, Louder we want everyone to hear you….just like an angel….I SAY A LITTLE PRAYER FOR YOU MY BABY.”  Then just as she had done so many times before she would laugh, that contagious laugh where she would gasp for air as though she was so happy she couldn’t bear it.

I would watch in awe as she iced the cake as though I were watching a movie, it seemed as though she did it all in one fluid motion all the while humming and smiling. I was in awe of her, her perfectly clean house, her perfectly neat hair-even the bobby pins seemed to shine as though they had been polished. My aunt who in a house dress was more beautiful than any movie star I had ever seen. I loved these days with her, just her and I baking and singing which now as I approach my 30^th year are the two things I enjoy more than anything else.

I do miss her….I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t give to go back to those days on Miami Beach in the 80’s. Her back door open so the smell of salt water mixed with the cake like an indescribable perfume, the mirrored walls in her living room where I watched my reflection change from a little girl to an awkward adult, the way she would sit on the couch when “Knots Landing” would come on or tell me that it was only a few minutes until my Uncle would be home and then disappear in the bedroom only to re-appear even more radiant than before. It’s funny, I can’t remember the first time I stayed there but I do remember the last…I had just finished eating a slice of her homemade cake and my fingers traced the pattern on lace tablecloth covered with a shiny plastic. She was watching the Henry Ford story on television and called me over to her….”You see?” she said “his son died because he felt no one loved him,  aren’t you lucky? I love you enough for the whole world, as long as you have me you will never feel unloved.” She then walked me to the guest room to tuck me in she turned off the light and shut the door, the smell of cake still lingering in the air from earlier in the evening. You know, if I try hard enough I can still hear her voice on the other side of my door singing sweetly “This is dedicated to the one I love.”

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